A Light Rain Falling
J.T. Ledbetter
We walked in a park with children calling,
and kissed on a bridge with a light rain falling.
You said you would write, and went to Iraq,
but the letters stopped and they sent you back
in a box 2X6 with our country’s flag,
and your name in red on a plastic tag.
We buried you Sunday with your mother crying
when they fired some guns to mark your dying.
A girl from church sang an awful song,
then they called your name but pronounced it wrong.
We just walked home in a light rain falling.
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